


I'll Come Back When You Call Me

by Mirimage



Series: Dream SMP oneshots [7]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Not Canon Compliant, Pandora's Vault Prison, Protective Wilbur Soot, Resurrection, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, wilbur can have a little violence as a treat :3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:07:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29960010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirimage/pseuds/Mirimage
Summary: Tommy had been dead for three weeks when Dream brought him back. But now, he wasn’t alone.Or: Dream gets what's coming for him. Suck it, green boy.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Dream SMP oneshots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963615
Comments: 4
Kudos: 276





	I'll Come Back When You Call Me

**Author's Note:**

> I promised a sequel and here it is. Enjoy :]
> 
> Canon divergence because i crave the family dynamic like nothing else.

He hated to admit it, but the afterlife was peaceful.

For once, Tommy was able to let his guard down, and just exist in a way he hasn’t had the chance to in a very long time.

Wilbur had shown him around the tangled pathways of dead L’Manburg, the structures both unmapped and achingly familiar.The Camarvan was there, roof flaming proudly and brewing stands unlit. One of two little cots set up in the back had sleep rumpled sheets. Tommy ran his hands over the other with reverence. Wilbur didn’t need to offer it to him.

The L’Mantree bloomed beside a deep lake, and across the water a towering redwood grew—the kind that hadn’t been seen since the walls were destroyed. By the edge of the water, underneath one of the stilted houses, a tunnel lead to Ghostbur’s library. Old books and papers, lost to the Doomsday explosion, lined the walls. Draped across one side was the original L’Manburg flag, hand sewn by Niki.

The White House, the one built by Tommy and Wilbur and Quackity before the election, stood unbroken. The scent of cigarette smoke and whiskey drifted faintly from the open doorway. 

_(Wilbur didn’t say it, but Schlatt slept there. No one brought up the argument that had taken place, before it’s destruction.)_

He’d seen the animals flitting to and fro in the corner of his vision; foxes and bees and a horse. He’d found Henry beneath one of the redwoods. He didn't want to admit how long he'd knelt there, face buried in soft fur. 

Tommy hadn’t looked, but he knew the ground beneath their feet was lined with tunnels; leading to Tubbo’s bunker and Pogtopia and the sewers carved by his own hand.

_(Somewhere in the depths of the earth, a single obsidian room lay buried, unconnected to the tunnel system. There were four chests there, all empty, all except one that held a single book.)_

_(‘I’m sorry,’ it said.)_

The afterlife was untroubled in a way the SMP never was. It was a pity it couldn’t last.

* * *

It had been a couple of weeks since Tommy had died when he decided to visit MD.

Wilbur had let him know that he was here from the beginning. He’d kept his distance, his resemblance to a certain masked man too great to ignore.

Tommy was touched by the consideration. No one had ever considered his fears, his _trauma_ , like that before before.

It had taken a while, but Tommy had eventually felt secure enough to go and see him. He hadn’t forgot that MD was one of the few people who visited him in exile.

His footsteps thumped on the wooden planks of the Prime Path, the same way they always did in life. Wilbur followed behind at a leisurely pace, hands in his pockets and eyes sleepy.

It started with an itching in his shoulders.

At first, Tommy shrugged it off, rolling his shoulders a bit to shake the sensation away. For a moment, it receded, before rushing back twofold. It roiled down his spine, tiny hooks burrowing under his skin and _pulling._

“Wilbur?” Tommy’s voice was unsteady as the feeling grew, setting his hands shaking and breath quickening.

“Tommy? Hey, shit, what is it?” Wilbur hurried to his side, catching his shoulders. Tommy’s hands came up to clutch at Wilbur’s wrists, the touch grounding against the onslaught.

“I don’t know, it—” his voice cut off with a hiss. “It feels like I’m being pulled somewhere, everywhere at once.”

Wilbur stilled. “It’s the resurrection book,” he said in dawning horror. “It’s Dream.”

Tommy flinched hard at the realisation, panicked words spilling faster and faster from his lips. “No no no, Wilbur, _Wilbur_ , I don’t want to go back!”

He fell to his knees. Wooden beams dug into his skin as Wilbur dropped with him, wrapping him in a bone breaking hug as if he could keep Tommy with him through sheer power of will.

He let out a choked sob, clinging to Wilbur with desperation.

“I’ve got you, you’re not going anywhere Toms, just hold on—“

The white of the void surrounding L’Manburg dissolved, plunging him into a darkness he hadn’t seen since he’d first died.

Tommy couldn’t feel Wilbur anymore, couldn’t hear his voice through the ever building haze of pain. With the last threads of security gone, he gave in to the agony and terror, and screamed.

His body was tearing apart at the seams, disintegrating into the empty blackness of the void. There was a whispering in his ears, words inaudible but growing louder and louder until they roared like static.

Then-

“Hello?”

* * *

Tommy’s entire body ached.

Everything was too loud; the room echoed with the shriek of the Prison’s elder guardian, and the voice that had spoken earlier cut clean through his pounding head.

“I did it.”

Tommy blinked at the ceiling. Glossy black and dripping purple.

“I’m a god.”

_Dream._

The man looked worse than the last time he’d seen him; hair tangled and matted, body thin and gaunt.

“What was it like?” he asked as he rose to his feet in an unnaturally smooth motion.

“What?” Tommy’s thoughts were flowing like magma. There was too much going on at once to process.

“Death.” Dream’s tone was impatient. He tapped slender fingers against his arm. “What was it like?” There was a sick kind of curiosity burning in his voice.

He just stared. His senses were finally beginning to right themselves, and Dream’s voice had faded from a piercing howl to almost manageable levels.

“Tommy,” he said warningly, and Tommy snapped to attention.

_(The reactions from exile were still burned deep into his brain, and Tommy loathed how Dream could exploit him with a single word.)_

He was aware he was rambling, half formed thoughts about the afterlife version of L’Manburg, and MD and Schlatt and Wilbur, but it was awfully hard to remember what happened when little shocks of pain were still rocking his body, and Dream was standing _too goddamn close_. He didn’t realise he’d verbalised the second thought until Dream laughed lightly.

“Oh don’t worry, you don’t have to remember it all. We can do it again. We have all the time in the world.”

Sam had taken the mask, back when he’d first been imprisoned. Tommy had always thought Dream’s mask was terrifying. The white porcelain sealed away any expression, any shred of emotion that could have humanised that ever-looming figure.

But this was so much worse.

Dream’s face was twisted into a wild grin, eyes toxic green and lit with insanity. His head was tilted at an angle just too sharp to look natural.His jumpsuit was splattered with dried blood—Tommy’s blood, still staining his sleeves from the last time he’d _committed murder_.

He moved slowly, almost leisurely, as he closed in. His hand snatched at Tommy’s shirt, dragging him forwards, and he could see Dream’s delight as he let out an uncontrollable gasp.

His eyes were tightly clenched shut, but Tommy noticed when Dream hesitated. He risked a peek with one eye to see the man watching the entrance of the cell with a narrowed gaze.

Focusing now, Tommy could hear shouting from behind the curtain of lava, and all of a sudden an alarm was blaring. Dream stopped short, fist still clenched in Tommy’s shirt.

The lava at the entrance was rippling now, the way it did when Sam pulled it back to let the bridge through, and Dream had frozen. His eyes were shrewd, mouthing snippets of words Tommy couldn’t hear. He could practically see the thoughts whirring in Dream’s head. He was calculating whether killing him was worth the risk, whether he had enough time, but all Tommy cared about was that he’d stopped and now was his chance.

Tommy lashed out, foot catching a solid blow to Dream’s ankle and knocking him off balance. He dropped Tommy as he stumbled, and he scrambled backwards until he could feel the cool press of obsidian.

Dream snarled in pain, spitting curses like fire, but it was too late now.

The molten flow parted.

Tommy ’s eyes widened in disbelief, and now he wasn’t even sure this was _real_ , because Wilbur was dead. Wilbur was back in the puzzle of afterlife-L’Manburg, and Tommy was alone with the source of his nightmares.

But it _was_ him standing there, framed by glowing orange.

Wilbur stalked forwards, dark intent dripping from his every movement. In his hands he held a diamond sword, faceted reflections dancing across the walls.

“You’re not supposed to bring items in here.” Dream cocked his head arrogantly, but without the mask Tommy could see the uneasiness setting in.

Behind Wilbur, Tommy could see other figures. They stood still and silent, unidentifiable through the harsh glare of lava. Dream’s eyes flicked to them, visibly shaken, as he drew closer.

With a smooth movement Wilbur slashed the sword through the hot air. It sunk clean into the obsidian wall, pinning a struggling Dream in place.

“You,” Wilbur growled, “shouldn’t have laid a single finger on my little brother.”

The other figures were moving now, rushing into the cell; Sam and Sapnap intercepting as Wilbur slammed Dream against the wall. A third reached towards him, pausing as Tommy recoiled back and threw his arms above his head. For a moment nothing happened, and he glanced up.

Phil stood above him with outstretched hands, eyes big and worried, and in that moment Tommy forgot everything he’d ever done and sank into his embrace with a gasp of sheer relief. Dark wings closed around him; nothing like the painful tearing of the void, this was warm and safe, and the soft brush of feathers felt like coming home.

He could hear arguing, hear Dream pleading with the Warden and Wilbur snap back.

“We’re gonna get you out of here, alright mate?” Phil’s soothing voice was a balm over his frazzled nerves, and Tommy found himself relaxing almost unconsciously.

There was a ringing scrape, and Phil was tugging him to his feet.

Wilbur had drawn the sword from the wall, releasing Dream. His arms were restrained by Sapnap, Sam’s trident a solid bar across his chest.

Wilbur stalked to his side, and Tommy didn’t know how he was here but he had never been more relieved.

He was ushered forwards, Phil’s wing a warm weight at his back. The bridge was still there, ready to take him across the lava. To take him home.

Out of the corner of his eye Tommy could see Dream tracking his movements, and saw the moment his expression turned feral.

With an inhuman wail he lunged forwards, breaking Sapnap’s grip with startling ease, and Tommy couldn’t move. He could only watch as Dream reached for him with clawing hands, too quick to be caught.

Wilbur was faster.

The sword slid into Dream’s chest with barely a sound.

He watched as he fell to the ground, a wet gasp bubbling from his throat.

He watched as the light faded from his eyes.

Wilbur was at his side again, pulling him into a tight embrace, and it was only then that Tommy realised he was crying.

_(He didn’t know why. Was it relief? Sadness? A small part of him, deep down, mourned the person that Dream used to be, the person he could have been.)_

_(The bigger part of him said good riddance.)_


End file.
